I was in Boston yesterday watching my sister run the marathon. It was amazing. Between her finishing in an unbelievably great time, getting to experience the city on Marathon Monday and cheering for so long that my voice was horse and my son was telling me to be quiet, I had an unforgettable weekend. I was also not near my computer, so I’m posting a day late.

I have been so caught up with sports and watching sports and hearing about sports that I haven’t had time to watch the second episode, but Jeremy told me about this awesome new show called The Killing. The pilot and first season were impressive and I’m looking forward to securing some couch time to watch the second episode sometime soon. Maybe in a few months after the NHL playoffs.

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After spending the week (yes, when the person you live with is putting together a pool it’s at least a week long event) talking about and watching the Masters, this Bill Simmons article was one of the best things I’ve read in a long time. I think I would have been as impressed even if my week hadn’t revolved around the Masters.

“See, you know how to take the reservation, you just don’t know how to *hold* the reservation…” Seinfeld.

Substitute the word ‘appointment’ for ‘reservation,’ and you get pretty much every single experience I have had with the doctor, and dentist for that matter. Yesterday I had an appointment to have a cyst removed from my lip at 330 (fyi, I really wanted to post this last night, it would have been super fun to try to hash all these thoughts out knocked up on some painkillers, but I already ramble enough incomprehensibly…so alas). It was a relatively minor operation, which only took 30 minutes once I got on the table. It was getting on the table that was the difficult part. I knew I was in trouble when my mother, who has been to this office a few times before for some benign skin cancer removal (and probably some botox even though she won’t admit it), asked me, “How many pages left do you have in that book?”

Me, “Book? What book? Reading is for losers and geeks that don’t get girls.” Then I remembered I am a geek who doesn’t get girls, so I said, “about 40 pages.”

She said, “You might want to bring another book.”

I did, and I read about 35 pages of that one before I finally got called in for surgery prep…and then another 15 while I waited for the doctor to finally come in.

Listen, I’m not going to sit here and complain that the doctor should have seen me as soon as I stepped into his office, because that would be detrimental to other people. But I can sit here and bitch about the system itself. I mean I guess if a new doctor is opening a new practice and doesn’t fully comprehend how long each type of appointment takes I can understand why delays might happen. I can even understand that more established doctros can’t foresee every single delay. So it’s not as if I expect to be seen on time each and every single time I go see a doctor or dentist. But once, just effing once, I’d like to check in for a 3:30 appointment at 3:28, take a leak, and get called in.

I was going to write an entire paragraph or more about how they should stop over scheduling, and leave a little more leeway for patients…but that would’ve launched me into doctors chasing more money than they already make, but that would’ve launched me into our healthcare system in general, and this is neither the time or place. Besides, my Dad is a doctor, doesn’t chase money, and sees ALL his patients on time…

Hi, Jeremy. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Nifer, your co-blogger, and people like me are the reason why doctor’s offices run late. Perhaps you’ve read my earlier post on the importance of being on time. Or seen one of my kind running in 15 minutes after the appointment and being handed the clipboard of epic paperwork to fill out before we can even think of seeing the doctor. We’re annoying as all hell, and if it makes you feel any better, I get rolled eyes, nasty nurses, and satanic receptionists on a regular basis. It’s all part of my master plan to help you find more time to read.

But more importantly, I want to point out what a champion idiot you are for scheduling anything medically related past 11 am. I thought everyone knew you just do not schedule doctor’s appointments for the afternoon. Due to assholes like myself who thinks the world can wait for them, emergency appointments and patients (laugh lines can sneak up on you and when they do, I find Botox needs to be injected immediately) and long question and answer sessions for many appointments, there is no way in hell a doctor’s office is operating on schedule come 11 am.

You’re old enough to know better.

I’m worried I need to remind you, or alert you of other things I just assumed you knew. When it’s cold out, put on a hat, a jacket, or both. Don’t ask a woman you’re having an argument with if she’s “on her period”. Use something other than a metal utensil while cooking in a non-stick pan. Don’t refer to another woman as the C-word in front of 99.9% of women. If someone writes you an email needing your credit card number and social security number, it’s a scam.

I’m tempted to start this off, dear autocorrect, because the feature seems to have a will of it’s own when determining what to twist my texts and emails into. But I will not give in. My phone is a technical gadget, a mere machine. And despite all attempts to convince me otherwise, is not a replacement for a sibling, friend, or significant other. My friend Maggie, citing her “carl” app, would disagree, but that’s another matter all together and not one that refutes my point of view.

Let’s start with my name. I cannot tell you how many emails I have signed and quickly sent, sometimes in work-related situations, only to realize my phone has auto-corrected my name to either Nicer or Niger. I know, and I have realized the need to hit the little x by the corner. But shouldn’t the auto-correct be an option and not the default? As far as I know, there is no way to make my phone recognize certain oft used words, like the owner’s name, but it’s something that should be remedied.

Also, I would like to address the censoring of swear words, or more specifically, my written swear words. In the words of a friend, my iPhone edits the truck driver in me. My description of the ducking customers I have to deal with while working retail or me getting shot housed is only confusing my friends and loved ones.

The word that gets me most often is “you”. While furiously typing away on my phone, I mess this word up constantly. No, I don’t have man hands, and no, I’m not working with a cast or finger splint. I just can’t seem to get this word correctly on any attempt. The correction, Ou, is “a fruit-eating Hawaiian honeycreeper with a stout bill and green and yellow plumage” and I refer to it several times a day in text messages and emails since my phone merely capitalizes ou instead of ducking adding a y to the beginning of the word.

Auto-correct’s only benefit, I have decided, is for miserable spellers. Then the Rennaissance becomes the Renaissance, seperate becomes separate and embarassed becomes embarrassed. Misspellers, I hope Ou’re happy.

In the meantime, I’m waiting for someone at Apple to give a shot about us ducking swearers named Nicer trying to communicate with Ou.

Complaining about taxes is kind of like complaining about the weather when it’s 3 degrees outside, raining hail and blowing enough that the trees are threatening your roof. I don’t know anyone who rubs their hands together come tax time and says, “Yes! My favorite!” And I do know people who love the dentist, so I know people who are okay with and maybe even slightly enjoy discomfort and pain. And while one would like to think the US Government would pick up on this, they still make us muddle through the tedium of our our taxes, wait in endless lines to get our license renewed or mail a package around lunch time, and wait until we’re 21 to buy a drink at a bar. Clearly they aren’t checking the comments box.

I think the problem though, is us. While the system is definitely not the easiest, we, Jeremy and I, are also taking the more difficult route. I am in the midst of compiling a spreadsheet from our home renovation receipts for taxes, which is making life not as fun in the evenings (I hope my CPA is cool with wine stains). What I should have done is not fixed up anything in the house, not bought a house, not been self employed, and not be with someone who is self employed. Since we did buy the house, fix up the house and both work for ourselves, we are doing a ton of extra work in the hopes that we might be able to get a little bit of a break. And that’s before handing it off to our CPA who will hopefully make some sense of my rambling spreadsheets and make sure we haven’t screwed up somewhere along the line all while charging us as little as possible.

I’m dreaming big.

What I always wonder about, and I don’t have any accountant friends to answer this for me, is what the hell do accountants do from April 16th to mid-January. I’m sure there are some people who get extensions, but it must be pretty slow come April 16th. Are you twiddling your thumbs for most of the year and pulling your hair out for the other 12 weeks? Are you not sleeping for 12 weeks and then reading Gravity’s Rainbow or the Bible cover to cover the other 40?

And, fittingly enough, I’m going to end this and get back to my gripping spreadsheets. I’m kind of hoping when I do hand them in (I feel like I’m in school again saying that) my CPA will say something like, “wow, look at how well this information is all laid out.” Something to give me a little pat on the back for putting in all this effort instead of handing over a shoe box full of receipts. Although, I guess saving the money I would have paid her to go through the box is recognition enough. Maybe.

There are 3 facts that I know about myself: 1. I am a nerd…I like to think of myself as one of those, “cool nerds,” but even that probably isn’t true. 2. I am in love with my iPhone4. 3. In direct relation to fact #2, I am, quite literally, obsessed with the ‘Words with […]

There are three things I know about HeSaid. #1 He once swore to me in a fit of passion that he would never own an Apple product (this might have been while I was considering whether or not to buy a shuffle because my iPod was too bulky*). #2. He first gave in to an […]